With One Look
by phantomluvr28
Summary: One look can say it all. Devotion,love, forgiveness...everything a person is too frightened to speak. When Christine returns to her beloved Erik, she will realize that true love goes much deeper than words. EC pairing, ALW based
1. An everlasting love?

With One Look

To the naked eye, Raoul and Christine De Chaney couple appeared to be the vision of perfection. The dashing young Vicomte, with his long blonde hair and striking attire, would be considered the ideal man. Not only did he have wealth and fortune, but he also had a charm about him that would leave countless ladies swooning and wishing upon stars they would find a man quite like him. The Vicomtess, Christine, was a dashing beauty that left many men breathless. She had long, flawless brown curls, and her facial features were that of an angel. Her eyes seemed like endless pools of wonder, and one could get lost in them if they weren't careful. Her lips were full and beckoning, and she just had a glow about her that never seemed to fade. All in all, the De Chaneys were people of wealth, power, and beauty. There was not one person in all of France that longed to live their extravagant lifestyle.

Mind you, however, that beauty is only skin deep.

On the inside, the beautiful young Vicomtess was screaming, wanting desperately out of the life she was given. It wasn't as if the Vicomte treated her poorly; that was entirely not the issue. Raoul did whatever was in his power to make his wife content, such as purchasing a mansion, servants that obeyed her every command, and of course the latest and most extravagant French fashions. But lately Christine had become distant, almost reclusive. Something was troubling her, but whenever Raoul inquired about it, she merely shook it off as a mere headache or indigestion. But Raoul knew better. He would often find his beloved on the balcony, in the dead of night, humming random melodies or phrases, her eyes distant but somehow at peace. That spark inside of her that Raoul adored also seemed to be dying, leaving nothing but a cold and empty shell.

It had not always been like this, however. At first Christine and Raoul's love had been pure bliss. There wedding had been nothing short of a fairy tale. Christine was the most beautiful bride, and Raoul had never felt more happiness in his entire life. Their first couple months of marriage seemed like a dream, and nothing could bring them down to Earth. But there was always that one thing that separated the two lovers, and no matter how hard Raoul tried, he could never bring them fully together. And no matter how much he Raoul denied it, he could not deny the simple truth.

Part of Christine's heart would always belong to another.

"The _phantom,_" Raoul thought bitterly. He loathed the man, and that was putting it lightly. That man, that _thing_, that had stolen Christine's soul, obsessed over her, and ultimately scarring her for eternity. It was true, he had taught her to sing, sculpted her voice into such a perfection that even shocked Raoul at times. He hid in the shadows, and somehow in his twisted ways, convinced Christine he was sent by her deceased father. But he was not an angel at all. He was just a sick, vile creature with an obsession. His memory would forever haunt Raoul's nightmares. And that kiss! Oh, that kiss, so full of passion and longing! Christine _never _kissed Raoul this way. Even though she insisted it was just to save Raoul's life, he knew better. He always knew...he just wanted the best for her...

"Raoul? Darling, you have barely touched your breakfast." Christine's soft voice broke Raoul from this thoughts.

"Hmm? Oh its nothing Christine, I just have many things on my mind." Christine nodded slightly, for she was used to the lack of communication. Oh, how she longed for fire and passion, nothing that Raoul could never offer. How she longed for...him.

Christine mentally scolded herself, for she was now a married woman. There was no turning back now, those wedding vows had been the point of no return. But oh, why did her thoughts always lead back to him? No matter what the subject was, even the weather, she would always find herself yearning for his touch, his voice, his burning passion...everything. He had shaped her angelic voice, made her who she was. Even if he was cold and menacing on the outside, Christine had seen what lie underneath. She saw it emerge fully after she kissed him. Those endless tears running down his face, and those eyes! Those broken, painful eyes, so full of despair and hopelessness...how Christine longed to kiss away all his tears, all his loneliness. And then those four words, so simple and yet so full of meaning...

"_Christine, I love you."_

Christine would never forget the look on his face until her dying day. That flicker of hope when she started back to him, and then the utter look of heartbreak when she gave him back his ring. He was trying to stay strong, she knew, but she didn't miss those two solitary tears which ran down his face. It took every ounce of strength she had not to run back into his arms, hold him, whisper words of undying love into his ear...but she didn't. She left him there to die.

"_Oh how could I have been such a monster..? That's the only one word to describe me after what I did to him. If only..._" God help her, she was thinking of him again!

"_No Christine_," she told herself firmly. "_You are a married woman, a Vicomtess no less, you must put an end to these hopeless thoughts_..."

The De Chaneys finished their breakfast in silence that day.


	2. Tears shed for a dark fate

Hello everyone! Sorry about the last short chapter, I am going to try to make them longer. This is my first fan fiction, so please forgive me if the characters are, well, a bit of out of character. I am also accepting flames, but I would really prefer them to be constructive. Nothing like this story totally sucks. Also, the characters are 100 based on the movie. Christine is to look like Emmy Rossum, Erik looks like Gerard Butler (squee!), and Raoul like Patrick Wilson. All other characters apply as well. I'm also going to try not to bash Raoul TOO much...I know, I know but I want it to be realistic. Well that's basically all for know, and thanks so much to those who reviewed already!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera. However, I do have Erik locked in my basement and always make him put on his sexy red death outfit. Muhaha.

Tears Shed for a Dark Fate

After breakfast, Christine and Raoul wordlessly parted ways, each pondering their own thoughts. Christine seemed especially withdrawn that day, and Raoul was very concerned. There was something in her eyes, almost sorrow, that worried him dearly.

"This has to stop," Raoul said to himself. He missed that fire, that endless love that once burned in their marriage. He would not lose it for anything.

Christine was in their bedroom, studying her reflection in their enormous mirror. Her skin was flawless, and her hair was perfect, as usual. But Christine felt anything but beautiful today. In fact, she was miserable, in every sense of the word. She missed singing terribly, for it would be completely improper for a noble woman to do such things. "_And yet," _Christine thought bitterly, _" it is considered completely acceptable to gossip and speak ill of others behind their backs."_ She learned this was a common activity for noble women long ago, and she considered it absolutely disgusting. Of course, there had always been gossip between the ballet girls at the Opera House, but nothing more than childish talk. These women were vicious, and isolated anyone who didn't meet their standards. Christine knew they talked about her. With her recent marriage troubles and failure to socialize, they were bound to make crude comments.

If only her angel was there...

Christine could not prevent the tears from spilling this time. Oh, how she missed him so! He was always there for her, always guiding her, always _loving _her...and yet she rejected him. Where would he go? Did he die in his sorrow? Christine was sure he did. She was his only reason for living, after all. She loved Raoul, she truly did, but she couldn't help the regrets that always plagued her existence. He had given her everything, _everything, _and she repaid him by throwing it all back in his face.

"_Christine, why, why...?"_

By now, Christine's body was racked with uncontrolled sobs. She looked back into her pitiful reflection, and slowly traced her fingers down the smooth, reflective glass.

"_Angel of Music, I denied you..."_

Raoul's knocking brought Christine back to reality. She quickly straightened herself up the best she could, and answered the door. "Christine, I wanted to talk to...oh God Christine, what's wrong?"

And with that, Christine could not hold back any longer. She flew into his arms and sobbed.

"Shh, Christine, whatever is the matter?"

Christine sniffled and whispered into his shirt, "It's been a year, Raoul."

Raoul sighed. "_Will we ever be free of this memory?"_ Christine looked into his eyes. She was a pitiful sight, to say the least.

"Oh Christine, please dry your tears. It is nothing but a memory now. That monster is out of our lives forever. He will never harm you again."

Christine turned away from his embrace. "Please Raoul, do not call him that. His actions were inexcusable, I know, but there is no need for harsh words."

"He threatened my _life _Christine! Our_ future!_ How could you possibly defend him?"

" Because, no matter what he did, he was still a major part of my life. He was there for me when no one else was. He inspired my voice, and I broke his heart! My God, Raoul, I can still hear him singing to me! He will always be there, and I can't shake his memory from my tortured existence!"

Raoul was dumbfounded. He always knew something was horribly wrong with Christine lately, but he never imagined this. He went over to the bed to where she sat, and put a reassuring arm around her shoulders.

"Oh, Raoul, please forgive me. I know this isn't easy for you either. I have been incredibly selfish...I do truly love you, with all of my heart."

"And I you, beloved. Please try to cheer up, I hate to see you like this."

Christine nodded slowly, silent tears still trickling down her face. "If you don't mind, Raoul, could have some time alone? To compose myself."

"Of course, my love." And with that, Raoul gently kissed her forehead, gave her a reassuring smile, and took his leave.

Christine straightened up, and once again found herself in front of the mirror. "_Surely life is better than this," _she thought to herself. She knew Raoul would forbid it entirely, but she had to wonder.

What if she returned to the Opera House?

A ridiculous notion, she knew, for the once magnificent building was now destroyed beyond recognition. And besides, it was most unlikely that her angel was still there. She just hoped he was safe and content, though the content part was most unlikely. Perhaps she could leave silently without Raoul's knowing. She would return, of course, but she wanted this one ounce of reassurance in her life. She _needed _it. She needed to see her angel again, make sure he was alive, and even beg for forgiveness. And with this final thought, she made her decision.

She would once again open a once dead chapter in her life. _She would return to the Opera Populaire._

A/N- Yay! Another chapter done. And even though this chapter might have been a tad boring, there will be Christine/Erik interaction soon, I promise!

Please review, and I'll have my imprisoned Erik dance for you :)


	3. Return to my glory days

Alrighty so here's another chapter...Sorry I haven't updated a lot, I was in Pittsburgh, but I'll try to update regularly this week. So read and review, my fellow phans!

Disclaimer: I own the Phantom of the Opera..AHHH! runs from lawyers with guns

Return to My Glory Days

Christine was not sure what woke her that night. Perhaps it was the anticipation, the pure anxiety of returning to the Opera House. She would leave that night, she decided. She could no longer endure the agony of her existence. She needed closure, something that could ease her guilty conscience.

Very quietly, almost ghost-like, Christine slipped out of the large, king-sized bed. She quickly changed into a modest black dress and cloak, not wanting to be seen by the servants. She glanced at her beloved Raoul, sleeping serenely under the sheets. She hated hurting him so, but there was simply no other option. Taking a pen in her quivering hand, she quickly scribbled down some words of explanation:

_My dearest Raoul,_

_I apologize for my absence this morning, but I have decided to spend the day by myself. I need to collect my thoughts, and I would just feel better doing it alone._ _I promise you I will return by nightfall. I love you more than words can say, and I swear to you that things will get better._

_Your wife,_

_Little Lotte_

Christine smiled at these last words, for they brought back the fondest of memories. She'd never forget the day when Raoul, a young child of seven, had rescued her favorite red scarf from the sea. That was the beginning of an innocent, childhood relationship that Christine would always cherish.

Christine then slipped out the door, quickly ran down the marble staircase, and silently left the mansion. It was very early morning, around four o'clock, and she hoped that there would be a carriage available. Her question was answered when one emerged from the fog and stopped at the front gate.

"Where to, miss?" The carriage driver was very filthy and obviously of the lower class, but Christine had more important things to worry about than the hygiene of others.

"The Opera Populaire, please."

The carriage driver gave her a peculiar look, and then turned around and gave a whistle to the horses. Christine was thankful he didn't ask questions, for she was in no mood for explanations this morning.

It was a long journey, at least to Christine. She was shaking from nerves, and she had no clue what to expect. Would he welcome her? Would he shun her? Was he even alive?

Christine didn't want to even imagine the possibility of the last question. _He has to be alive. He's the opera ghost, the phantom of the opera. He can never die..._

The carriage suddenly jerked, breaking Christine's thoughts. She wordlessly dropped some coins into the man's awaiting hand, and stepped out to view the disgrace that once the Opera Populaire.

The outside walls were charred beyond recognition, and the outside doors were cracked and broken. The roof was almost caving in, and pigeons flew in and out of crevices in the building. The building was a truly pathetic sight.

Christine slowly climbed the steps that led to the two front doors. Praying silently that they would be open, she gave a slight tug. The doors opened with a horrible creak, revealing more of the damage. The once majestic and glorious foyer now appeared like something out of a horror story. Almost all of the steps have crumbled, leaving a giant mess. There were also many holes in the floor and cobwebs seemed to be everywhere.

Christine felt tears swell in her eyes. _This can't be the Opera Populaire...this can't be the place I used to call home..._

And yet it was. She remembered her few days as a diva, singing on that marvelous stage, the bright lights, the roar of the crowd...

And it had all been because of him.

Wiping her tears, Christine struggled through the rubble and debris and slowly made her way to her old dressing room. She quietly opened the door and prepared herself for the destruction that was bound to appear before her eyes.

Surprisingly, the room hadn't been damaged too badly. The walls were slightly burned, but the rest seemed untouched. Christine slowly turned her gaze to the mirror...

_Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside..._

But he wasn't. Not this time.

Christine soon found herself in front of the glass, prodding desperately for a way through it. With an exasperated cry, she pulled on it with all her strength, all her hurt, all her feelings she had in the past year...

Shockingly, it flew open. Christine was flown backwards and hit the ground hard. With determination, she got up and walked cautiously into the dark corridor behind the mirror. It was dark, so unforgivingly dark. She felt her way through the internal blackness, her chestnut eyes soon adjusting to the darkness. Absent-mindedly, Christine began singing a tune from long ago...

_In sleep he sang to me_

_In dreams he came_

_That voice which calls to me_

_And speaks my name..._

_ ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

Beyond the darkest night, in the most ultimate of solitudes, the Phantom of the Opera sat alone.

Not that this was any surprise, for he had been alone for one, solitary year. One year without her voice, without her touch, without _her..._

The notes he played on his organ soon became horribly dissonant, for that was what his existence was. _Dissonant. _The man once feared as the Opera Ghost was now bent over with his face in his hands, trying to rid his tortured mind of her memory. If only he could forget her, if only...

_And speaks my name..._

Her angelic voice flooded his ears, making him almost cry out in joy. All he wanted was to hear her one last time, to feel her beneath his fingertips, to feel _love _once more...

The happiness was short lived, however, as he remembered she was only a memory. Her voice would always be in his head, but it would be nothing more than a fragment of the imagination...

_ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

The gargoyles on the wall almost seemed to be mocking her, laughing in a horrible cruelty. Christine continued her journey nonetheless, soon coming to the underground lake. The boat was gone, but she knew nothing would prevent her from crossing it. She quickly removed her shoes, cloak, and stockings, bearing only her dress. She slowly slid her foot into the bitter cold water, withdrawing quickly at the iciness. Closing her eyes tightly, Christine then stepped fully into the lake.

The coldness was mind-deadening. Christine's teeth began to chatter almost immediately, and she wrapped her arms around her body in a vain attempt to keep warm. As she continued to trudge through the arctic waves, Christine realized the water was gradually growing deeper. Before long, the water was at her collarbone. The chattering became more intense, and Christine's lips soon began to turn blue. It seemed like an eternity before she reached the closed gate, and she gripped onto it so tightly her knuckles turned white as bone. She was dangerously close to fainting, and before her world turned black, Christine saw a dark figure beyond the gate with his back turned.

_Angel..._

A/N: Ok I can just hear the groans, I know you guys want some Christine/Erik interaction, but this chapter was essential for the plot. More to come soon, I promise!

Review, and I'll have my imprisoned Erik sing for you! Unless it is the Macarena, for that tends to give him a rash.


	4. Back in your arms

Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera, but at least I have my cheerios hugs box

Hey everyone! I really hope this chapter is ok, writing Erik is kinda difficult for me. I mean one minute he's happy, then he's mad, then he's depressed...gotta love him though! A big thanks to all those who reviewed, keep'em coming!

**EriksIngenue**- haha I love that song too! It's my first fanfic, so I said hey why not use my favorite song as the title?

**Computerfreak101**- Of course he will sing it for you! He might twitch a little when he does, however, because I have forced him to sing Point of No Return several hundred times already.

**Jinxed4ever**- He won't be alone for long! Heehee

**RockerxCutie**- Thank you!

Thanks to everyone else for all your wonderful compliments, they really inspire me! And now onto some Erik/Christine action!

Back In Your Arms

_Angel..._

He quickly looked up and turned towards the gate, his magnificent eyes almost aglow in the darkness.

And there was his beloved Christine, holding onto the iron as if her very life depended on it. At first he thought he had finally crossed the borders of insanity, until he heard her beautiful yet barely audible whisper...

And with a speed as quick as lightening, he opened the gate and quickly recovered her lifeless body from the water. She was so cold, so very cold, and her face was as white as death, but she was still as beautiful as ever. He carried her slowly to the swan bed, still in shock of her presence.

As he put her down softly on the bed, he wiped the drenched curls out of her face, and wrapped a blanket around her delicate frame. He studied her for a few moments, memorizing every detail if in fact this was just a cruel dream. His mouth slightly parted, and tears flooded his eyes.

_Oh, Christine..._

_ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

Raoul read and re-read the note countless times, trying to make sense of the situation. _What could possibly be of such urgency that Christine could not consult her own husband? _

When he had first picked up the parchment, he had a terrifying suspicion that Christine had left him. He could not even imagine the thought, not seeing her face every day, not waking up to her beside him...

But then he realized she would return, and a wonderful relief swept over him. He even chuckled at her innocent signature. But now he had no idea where in heaven's name she was, and he was worried. She had not been emotionally stable for the last few months, and God knows what she could get herself into.

Raoul ran his fingers through his long hair, and let out a sigh of frustration.

_Where are you Christine...?_

_ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

When Christine awoke, she was utterly oblivious to where she was. Her eyes scanned over the surroundings...the red swan bed, the black lace curtains, the darkness...

And then she knew. She was in the home of her angel.

The next thing she realized was a slow, haunting melody, barely audible in the silence but Christine recognized it immediately. She began to sing along with it softy...

_Masquerade_

_Paper faces on parade_

_Masquerade_

_Hide your face..._

..._So the world will never find you._

His clear, angelic voice echoed throughout the room. He looked down on her serenely, an air of power radiating from his blue-green eyes.

"Angel," Christine whispered, hardly believing what her eyes were showing her. He was dressed in black evening wear, and his white mask was firmly in place. His black hair was slicked back, and his eyes were so incredibly beautiful, those two orbs of emerald splendor. He was the vision of perfection.

"Christine," he replied softly, sitting slowly on the bed and cautiously taking her hands in his. He almost seemed as he would withdraw from his action, but Christine held their grasp firmly.

He closed his eyes and swallowed, obviously nervous. Then he asked the obvious.

"Why have you come back?"

Suddenly Christine did something completely unexpected-she let out a heartbreaking sob and threw herself into her angel's embrace. Horrible sobs racked her body, and she held onto him as if he would evaporate at any moment.

The phantom was completely shocked at this, and had no idea how to react. No one had ever embraced him before, not even his own mother, for she shunned and cursed his very existence. Dumbly he wrapped his arms around Christine, trying in vain to comfort her.

"Oh Angel, I missed you so! My life has seemed empty without you, and oh God I thought you were dead!"

Sobs now overcome her ability to speak, and endless tears ran down her face. The phantom was stunned at her response, and slowly stroked Christine's hair in an attempt to calm her.

"Shhh, Christine, please don't cry. You know how it pains me to see you cry."

Christine sniffed and closed her eyes against his chest, slowly relaxing. "My angel..."

"Please don't call me that. I am no angel."

Christine looked into his sorrowful eyes, a confused expression crossing her features. "What shall I call you then?"

He sighed against her hair, still letting his fingers glide through her curls.

"Erik."

_ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

Christine was not sure how much time had passed, but it seemed like eternity. After her and Erik's reunion, she had decided to dry herself off and compose herself before heading home. She hated to leave him again, but she had promised Raoul. And she knew if she didn't return, Raoul would have the whole French army after her in less than an hour. She slowly exited the room, and found Erik feverishly writing music at his organ. He sensed her presence immediately, and turned his head towards her.

"I think I might return home," Christine said softly, in a very sad tone. Erik simply nodded, and walked towards the boat. Christine followed suit. When they reached the boat Erik held out his hand for Christine to get in. Trying to conceal her blush, Christine took it awkwardly. The journey to the opposite shore had a deafening silence, and either couldn't have felt more out of place. Christine knew that this act of pretending as if nothing happened would not last long, and she feared when the glass would finally shatter.

When they reached land Erik helped Christine out the boat, seeming to avoid her eyes at any cost. Christine brought a shaking hand to his face, whispering a thank you. The interaction ended as soon as it began, as Christine turned around and quickly began to make her exit.

"Wait!"

Erik's voice suddenly broke the silence, and he rushed to her in a few long strides. Like a timid child, he stepped forward. Christine looked up at him with wide eyes, not in fear, but anticipation. Very slowly and gently, Erik kissed Christine's forehead. He then closed his eyes tightly, fearing rejection or disgust. "Promise you'll come back," he whispered painfully.

Christine's eyes were filled with unshed tears, and she looked into his adoring eyes.

"I promise."

A/N: YAY! Who doesn't love all that fluffy goodness? Next chapter to come soon!

Review, and I'll give tickle-me-Erik plushies to everyone!


	5. When the Horizon Darkens Most

Wow has it been a long time! I am so sorry for the lack of updates on this story, but quite frankly I was stuck. I had no idea where I wanted to go with the plot…. and on top of all that I had tons of homework to deal with. But don't worry; I'm defiantly not abandoning this story. Sometimes I just need a little motivation. And plus I have more ideas for another story I wish to start soon, but I would rather finish this one first. By the way, the song used in this chapter is_Wind's Nocturne. _So read on and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own POTO, that all belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Lucky bum…

1When the Horizon Darkens Most

Christine's emotions were in absolute turmoil. She was on the verge of screaming out and crying tears of anguish, and yet she was overjoyed. It was taking every ounce of self-control she possessed not to run back to her angel and embrace him, professing words of comfort and endless promises. Promises Christine knew she could never keep.

"_Why must I always be such a selfless monster? I know I can never come back…Raoul would be furious. He probably already is after I left so abruptly…Oh why didn't I say no? Why couldn't I have just turned away and left him? Which I have done so many times…"_

But Christine knew why she didn't refuse him. She _couldn't_. His eyes were so full of sorrow and hope…and the fact that he _kissed _her! Christine had never suspected that, not in a million years. She could still feel her heart racing, and with that innocent kiss, Christine could feel her spirit soar…

He had such an overpowering effect on her, and Christine knew it. Even when he spoke, chills crept down her very spine. And when he sang! How could a man, cursed with such a face, have the voice of an angel? Oh how Christine had longed for his voice! Her dreams had been full of his presence, and she thought she would never be free of him. She would always be tied to him forever, even in sleep…

As Christine came to the mirror, an overwhelming feeling of loss swept over her. How could she go on with this life when the only source of true happiness she had ever felt lie within the bowels of an abandoned Opera House?

"_Promise you'll come back…"_

And with a quiet sob, Christine stepped over the threshold.

_ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

When Christine returned to the mansion, she was welcomed with yet more darkness. She laughed in a cynical way at the irony. She had left Erik and his world of unending night to be welcomed back into a world of yet more darkness.

"Raoul?"

Christine called her husband's name, although it appeared that the house was entirely vacant. When she saw a faint light coming from the bedroom, Christine suddenly became anxious. She knew that Raoul would be angry with her for leaving. He probably had no idea where she was, and he had nothing but a silly note to ease his thoughts. But she prayed he would not be upset, prayed that he would understand…

When Christine entered, Raoul was bent over on the bed, his head in his hands. His hair was a mess, and when he looked up, his eyes were bloodshot.

"Christine!"

Raoul ran and embraced his wife, as if he hadn't seen her in years. Christine awkwardly stood there, for her mind was still in an upheaval. Nothing would ever be the same…

"Christine, oh my God, where have you been? I've been so nervous, I called every bloody relative, every person that I know, and nobody has seen you! Do you have any idea of how worried I was?"

Christine's head was racing. What would she tell him? She hadn't thought up a lie for where she was…Raoul could never find out the truth….

"I'm sorry."

For the time being, Christine couldn't think up anything else to say. Tears welled up in her eyes, and Raoul let out a defeated sigh.

"Christine, my love, I am sorry for yelling, but…. I've been sick with worry, and you must understand. Why couldn't you come to me Christine? Why do you feel you must be in solitude to work out your problems?"

Christine turned away from him, the battle within herself becoming increasingly intense. She wanted to confess to him everything, but she feared his reaction. He would be so hurt, so angry…and God knows what he would be capable of in blind fury…

Raoul took Christine's chin and turned her eyes to face him, but she wouldn't.

"Christine, look at me."

And when she did, her eyes were so full of sadness, and yet…fear? Where could she have been, that she is afraid of telling him?

And suddenly, he knew.

"Were you at the Opera House?"

Christine head instantly shot up and she began to tremble. "Raoul, I…"

"WERE YOU AT THE OPERA HOUSE, CHRISTINE?"

"Raoul, please…you must understand..."

"Let me ask you my dear, did you see him, or should I say, _it? _Did you run to your demonic _angel of music?_" He spat these last few words out with terrible venom in his voice, and Christine backed away in terror.

"What draws you to him, Christine? What is it about him that intoxicates your very _thoughts? _Do you know how painful it is to wake up, every day, knowing that the woman lying next to me is not entirely mine? I see him in your eyes, Christine. Is that where you go when your thoughts drift away? Back to the dungeon, back to your phantom?"

_SLAP._

Christine's hand met Raoul's cheek with such vigor that Christine's hand stung. She couldn't take the accusations, the horrible words Raoul spat at her without remorse.

"I can't take this anymore! I can't live this life, this hell of an existence! Every night, Raoul, every night, he is in my dreams! I needed closure, to put my troubled mind at ease, because I thought I had KILLED him! You should have seen him, that night when I left him…he looked on the verge of death…. oh God, what have I done?"

And with that, Christine threw herself on the bed and sobbed. Raoul looked on at what was left emotionally of his wife, and it seemed he was about to break down as well. Suddenly he turned away and walked to the doorway, his heart broken.

"I'm sorry, Christine. You must remember, that no matter how much you hurt me, I will always love you. I…I just do not know anymore…."

And with these words spoken, Raoul fled from the room. Christine looked after him in sorrow, and tears of suffering rolled down her cheeks. She looked to her bedroom mirror, and, without even an ounce of thought, began to sing.

_Wishing on a dream that seems far off_

_Hoping it will come today_

_Into the starlit night_

_Foolish dreamers turn their gaze_

_Waiting on a shooting star…_

With instability, Christine slowly walked out of her bedroom, and down her marble staircase.

But 

_What if my star is not to come?_

_Will my dreams fade to nothing?_

_When the horizon darkens most_

_We all need to believe there is hope…_

Christine soon found herself walking away from her house, where she didn't know, but she sang all the louder. Tears streamed down her face as she looked to the starlit sky.

Is an angel watching closely over me? 

_Can there be a guiding light I've yet to see?_

_I know my heart should guide me but_

_There's a hole within my soul…_

_Who can fill this emptiness inside of me?_

_Am I to be satisfied without knowing?_

I wish, then, for a chance to see

What I need

_Desperately…_

Christine found herself in front of the Opera Populaire, and in her exhaustion, lay on the steps.

Is my star to come…?   



	6. The broken wings of an angel

Hello again! Wow this might be my shortest update yet, but its 11:30 at night and I have school tomorrow, so I need some excuse to stay up. So I don't have much to say about this chapter, except it will most likely be long, and A LOT of angst. Who doesn't love that? Oh and Erik/Christine interaction. YAY! So here's another chappie, read and review!

Disclaimer: Never owned it, never will.

The Broken Wings of an Angel 

Christine's eyes fluttered open at the first hint of light the scarlet sky. At first she had no inkling of where she was, but when she felt the cold stone steps against her bare flesh, she knew. The young vicomtess was thankful that she hadn't been noticed by the likes of wicked men, for she could only guess what terrible consequences could come from that. A silent prayer of thanks was sent up to the heavens as Christine tried to pull herself up the stone steps and into the Opera House.

The destruction had not changed, but it still pained Christine in unspeakable ways. The morning light that seeped through the crevices of the building showed a twisted kind of splendor, and Christine was both taken and distraught by the scene. Suddenly, Christine's memory began to take hold, and the horrific surroundings were altered to its former beauty….

"_KEEP IN STEP! One two, One two…. chin up, shoulders back! You are all a disgrace! CHRISTINE! PAY ATTENTION!" Madame Giry shrieked in frustration._

_Christine, a young protégé of fifteen, snapped her thoughts back into focus. It had been especially hard to concentrate lately, for the lessons with her angel have become more and more productive. She never saw the angel's face, only his voice. And what a marvelous voice it was! Christine had never heard a voice so awe-inspiring that each time she heard it a spell was cast over her very soul…it felt like she was drifting peacefully into an unknown and dangerous serenity, and yet it left Christine yearning for more. She could feel his eyes on her right then…watching her, always watching her…._

"_CHRISTINE!"_

_For the second time that day Christine snapped herself out of oblivion. "I apologize, Madame, my mind is someplace else today."_

_Madame Giry let out an exasperated sigh. "Go to your dormitory, Christine. You are obviously not going to get anything accomplished today, so go and rest your wandering thoughts!"_

_Christine responded in a polite curtsy and took her leave. She had always loved dancing, but lately the practices seemed unusually long and tedious, and Christine knew why. She had a new passion in her life, and her dancing appeared to be slipping because of it. _

_Singing._

_Christine loved every aspect of it, pouring your soul into notes, belting out your sorrows or pain… and her angel was the only being that seemed to understand. That's why she called him her angel of music, because he was just that. She could feel his presence everywhere, when she danced, while she slept, even in dreams he was there. And yet, though frightening and strange, it made Christine feel loved, and as if she was needed. She needed her angel, but she had a bizarre suspicion that the feeling was mutual…_

Finally Christine made it to her dorm, exhausted and drained from the day's practice. Letting her hair down so that it flowed gracefully past her shoulders, Christine took off her dancing slippers and stockings, exposing only her practice attire. This made Christine blush profusely, although no one was there; she had always been a firm believer in modesty. Some older girls would sneak off in the dead of night to meet with a lover, attempting vainly to stifle giggles and tiptoes. Christine always rolled her eyes at this type of behavior, for she felt that in some way, she was already taken. And yet, she couldn't put her finger on how…

"_Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye… " Christine hummed the rest of the verse as she changed into her evening gown. Before lying down on her bed, however, something stopped her. Something foreign was on her pillow. Filled with curiosity, Christine bent down and picked up he object. A blood red rose, with a black silk ribbon tied around the stem. Christine's eyebrows furrowed, before she realized who had left it there…_

_Suddenly, a gentle breeze was sent through the room, making Christine gasp. He was there again, and she could feel it…_

Christine… 

A falling rafter brought Christine back to her dim reality. Oh, how she wished she could relive those days once more! Back to the days of innocence, with no phantom, no Raoul…just her angel. With a shuddering breath, Christine continued her journey. For no matter what pain or how many tears she had to endure, she had made a promise. And she had every intention of keeping it.

1

_Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

There had been a significant change of nature in the Phantom of the Opera. During time that he would usually be spent releasing his hurt through music, or wallowing through the depths of misery, he was now pacing restlessly around his lair. Christine Daae, the reason for his every breath, had returned to him! This simply could not be, it must be some sort of cruel dream…

"I must be going mad," Erik said aloud, running his fingers through his thick black hair. " You lovesick fool, Erik, you are allowing your emotions to overcome your existence! Forget about her, she is nothing but a taunting memory…a _ghost…"_

But he had heard her once again the evening before, in such a melancholy song of misery; it made his very heart cry out in grief. But he did not go to her; he did not comfort her, as he should have.

"_She is playing a dangerous game. She is playing with your emotions, forcing you to fall under her spell once more! Christine Daae is a wretched seductress, and nothing more. A wretched seductress who took hold of your heart and refused to let go…"_

Battles were raging in the depths of Erik's soul. He could not handle this; he swore he would go insane if he saw her again. Did she even know what kind of effect she had on him? A little blush, a minuscule bat of the eyes would drive Erik to the brink of what little sanity he still possessed.

_"But I suppose that is what angels are meant to do, drive away the devils that walk this earth,"_ Erik thought menacingly. "_Who could love such a face? A cursed, demonic face…"_

And yet, she had dared to kiss him! Unmasked, in this very cellar one year past, she kissed him with such a passion it surprised Erik himself. He touched his lips softly, thinking back on that blessed moment, where they were the only two beings left in the world…. there was no Vicomte, no horrid face, no rejection… just Erik and his beloved sharing a kiss with mingled tears.

At this memory, Erik put his face in his hands, and he wished above anything else he could feel it, just once more. Would she even return? She had made a promise, but Erik doubted she would keep it. Christine had probably just had a dreadful fight with the Vicomte, and ran to Erik in blind despair.

The _Vicomte. _Erik's teeth clenched at the very thought of the man. He had taken his angel away from him; turned her against him… He could have had any woman in the world, why Christine? Why did he have to take away the one thing Erik truly cared for? With a cry of sadness, Erik brought his fist down on his organ, sobs wracking his body.

All he wanted was just one more ounce of love…that sensation could distinguish all rejection and fear, but Erik knew it would never come…

1

_Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

Christine knew her way to the lair a little better this time, although there was the occasional trip or stumble. That look in Erik's eyes and his desperate plea for her to return was what kept her going, and she would not turn back for anything. The pure anticipation of seeing her angel once more was almost too much for Christine to bear. Her expensive dress had been torn more than once, and her hair was wild. She laughed out loud at the sight of herself, for she appeared to be nothing but a common peasant.

"_Its surprising how little appearance matters when you need something so strongly," _Christine thought to herself. "Wait…need? Christine, dear, you are getting much too far ahead of yourself, you are simply keeping a promise…don't let your emotions get the better of you again…"

Before Christine realized it, she was at the portcullis, peering into Erik's lair. Her arms shook violently, but this time it was from fear, not cold. The gates were strangely open, so Christine ventured in with alertness coursing through every fiber of her being. Erik was once again at his organ bench, but this time the sight tore at Christine's heartstrings. This time, her angel was crying, his face hidden in his hands.

"Er…Erik?" Christine called silently. Erik immediately shot up, his expression full of anger, but when he saw Christine, his face softened. He said nothing, his eyes focused on her face, his cheeks wet with tears.

"Oh God, Erik, angel…please forgive me," Christine stuttered, her own tears falling now. She tried to touch his face, but he turned away. Hurt was evident in Christine's face at this action, but Erik walked away from her.

"Christine, why are you here?"

Christine was quite taken aback by this question, for she had expected a warm, loving greeting with open arms…this is what she had hoped for, at least. Suddenly Christine gasped and let out a cry of pain as Erik turned on his heel swiftly and grabbed her shoulders.

"WHY ARE YOU HERE?"

Christine's entire body shook in fear at his terrifying demeanor, and tears continued to fall from her eyes.

"Erik please, just listen to me…"

"NO! You listen to ME, Christine! Do you find some sick pleasure in torturing me? Do you enjoy seeing me in agony?"

"No Erik please, you don't understand…."

"Oh I understand completely, my dear. Do you think you can walk into and out of my life as you choose? You think you can break my heart over and over again, and suffer no consequences? Do you think…?"

But Erik was never able to finish his ranting, for Christine's lips silenced him. Erik's eyes flew wide, and almost jumped back in hesitation. However, Christine slowly deepened the kiss, and began to tenderly stoke his unmasked cheek. Christine suddenly felt a surge of heat and passion run through her…something she hadn't experienced in months.

Erik, on the other hand, was in complete turmoil. She was kissing him? Oh how many nights had he dreamed of this moment, prayed for it to happen just once more…. and it was!

And it was also happening much too fast.

This time, Erik was the one who pulled away. Panting, he closed his eyes and tried to hate her, tried desperately to despise this wretched woman before him….

But he couldn't. He loved her with all his soul, there was no use denying it. But he also could not stand to be in her presence any longer. He needed to clear his mind. God, the kiss was still a blur to him…she kissed him….

"Leave, Christine."

Christine looked at him with a hurtful and flabbergasted look upon her face.

"Erik, I don't understand…"

"Go to your room, Christine. Leave me."

"But…"

"NOW!"

And with a final sob, Christine fled to her room, and slammed the door behind her. Throwing herself on the bed, she cried as she had never cried before. Why does he always push me away? Why won't he just let me love him? God in heaven help me, I love him…."

Outside Christine's door, Erik sat and felt his heart break for the thousandth time. He put his head in his hands, and he too let tears fall down his face.

"Christ, what have I done...?"


End file.
